Phones and Photos
by moirariordan
Summary: [That 70's Show] Miles away and closer than ever. [JackiexEric] AU
1. Part One

Phones and Photos

AN: This will be very short. Just something that struck me after the asshole-ness that is season eight Hyde.

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Part One

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He'd left for Africa on a desperate whim, hoping against hope that he wasn't screwing everything up for a daydream. He'd gotten sick once in the bathroom at the airport, two minutes before his flight left the ground. Now, eight months later, he felt only slightly less ill about the whole affair, though the puking had thankfully stopped after the first few weeks.

It felt worth it, though, which is ultimately why he stayed. It was all so very new and fragile, going to bed at night feeling like he accomplished good things and was worth more than shit, and he was so unbelievably happy and terrified that it was all just a facade at the same time. So he broke up with Donna and he ignored the stabbing feeling of guilt when he heard the undertone of despair in his mother's voice during his rare calls home. He endured the second hand stories of this Randy guy and ignored the stabbing feeling of jealousy in his gut because damn it, he'd spent his entire life worrying about other people and making sure that Donna was happy, that Mom was happy, that Red was happy (enough) and it left him feeling like half the man he felt he should be, and didn't he deserve this, if nothing else?

But one day on his weekly (more like monthly) call home, instead of the harsh tones of Hyde or Red, or the shrill voice of Kitty, he was greeted with the soft, almost timid voice of Jackie.

At first, he was struck by how different she sounded. How her voice wavered as she explained that Hyde and his wife had treated everyone to dinner, and she was staying home with Kitty, with the flu. How he could picture her dark, round face, creased with pain, so easily. How her features would crumble into tears as he'd seen so many times before.

And then it was like when she'd left for Chicago all over again, how she'd rambled on and on just to keep him on the line because she didn't want to admit that she was alone, except this time he rambled back, about his students and the people he met and how much his apartment sucked and how hot it was during midday. And she listened to all of it and asked questions and gave him advice and the best brand of sunblock to buy and told him not to worry about Kitty, that she was being taken good care of and that if nothing else, Donna was happy at least, as far as Jackie could tell. When he finally hung up, the pressure behind his eyes had eased a little, even if he didn't want to admit it. And if he specifically called back the next day and got her new phone number from Fez, it didn't mean anything except that he wanted to thank her for the advice. On the sunblock, of course.

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He was drunk when he finally called again. She picked up with a cheery greeting this time that was only partly faked, and then listened, quietly for once.

He'd lost a student. This kid was thirteen, barely a teenager, and Eric tried to reach him, tried to save him, to no avail.

"Dead at thirteen years old," he slurred. "Thirteen fucking years old. I didn't even get a chance to introduce him to Star Wars."

"You couldn't have known," she said quietly, her voice even and logical. "Some people are beyond help."

He cursed wildly at that. He ranted and raved and threw the phone down a few times, but when he picked it back up, she was always still on the other end. He fell asleep with the plastic pressed against his face, and in the morning there was a message waiting for him with the operator.

"Jackie sends her support," the operator said. Her _support_. "And she recommends that you 'lay off the weak stuff and drink some manly liquor for once.'"

He collapsed on his bed later with a bottle of Jack Daniels as instructed.

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The first time she called him she was sobbing and trying to hide it.

He took on his teacher persona and kept his questions simple and to the point, letting her talk. Did anything happen? Are you hurt? Do you need help?

"No, you doofus," she snapped. "I'm fine. Physically."

Ah. Hyde.

"He said he loved me," she said, her voice small. "He said that he never should've married Sam, that I was the one he wanted, the only one he'd ever want."

Isn't that what you wanted?

"Yes," she wailed. More sobbing.

It's all right, Jackie. Calm down, Jackie. Calm and easy. Then what went wrong?

"Everything," she choked on her words, something broken and helpless in her tone. "We slept together and it was perfect and magical, just like it used to be, but then I woke up and he was gone, and I thought he had to get to work, right? Well I go to surprise him—I mean, I dressed up for him and everything—and when I get to the store I see him all over that stripping _skank_ of a wife." She burst into sobs again and he could picture her even easier than before, with her perfectly coiffed hair and makeup done just so and her coy on purpose outfit perfectly coordinated, standing there, watching as the love of her life used his Vegas mistake to break her heart. Again.

It was him who kept steady and logical this time, who listened to her and didn't hang up when the phone hit the wall. He could tell when she'd fallen asleep, and he hung up the phone gently, taking a step back and studying the hard plastic. Then he picked it up again and redialed the operator. No harm in leaving a message.

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The cycle continued, as always, and he was the one to call her (it was his turn) and he talked about nothing as she murmured little _mmhmm_s and _uh-huh_s into the receiver. When he finally found the nerve to ask her if anything was wrong, why was she so quiet, she was silent for a long time before uttering a simple sentence.

"I'm pregnant."

Two words, barely a clause that held so much meaning and emotion and possibility behind them that Eric had to give it a moment to sink in. To accept the rude awakening that it brought with them, the unexpected wedge it drove into her life without warning or apology.

"Does he know?" He knew it was Hyde's, he didn't have to ask. He didn't really have to ask this either, but just to voice the topic eased the tension that had instantly snapped to life.

"No." Her voice was missing something that had been present before. "He moved to Vegas a week ago." What? Why hadn't she called? "He got an offer to open up a new branch in Lake Mead, and well, Vegas is like, Skankella's headquarters." There was no emotion in her tone, nothing more than emptiness.

"What are you going to do?"

Her sigh echoed over the line. "Get a job. Move out of Fez's place, get someplace bigger, maybe. My trust fund will last me awhile if I'm careful."

He'd never heard her sound so sad, or so logical, for that matter. "My parents would help."

"They've done enough for me," she said, her tone final.

He was silent a moment, picturing a pregnant Jackie. Maybe a kid. Jackie and Hyde's kid. He couldn't conjure the image. "You know that I'd..."

"I know."

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He started moving around a lot, going from town to village to city, following the schools and finding work wherever he could. Most of what he owned he could fit into a couple suitcases, and his wallet was stuffed to the brim with phone cards. He left messages for her whenever he moved, sent her pictures and clippings from his students in yellow envelopes made from thick, homemade paper. Whenever he got a hold of her directly, he'd sit back and listen patiently to her lists of pregnancy complaints, sipping cold beer and trying his damnedest to stay in his bubble of denial.

She was living in Chicago in Brooke and Kelso's basement, babysitting Betsy and working part time in a grocery store. She'd made it to manager in her fourth month and had ranted about it for an hour.

"I'm a Sac-n-Pac _manager_, Eric! I am one crappy haircut and a sci-fi obsession away from being you in high school!"

Ouch, that one stung. "What would you prefer, modeling maternity wear?" That shut her up.

She and Brooke had bonded over Ben & Jerry's and pregnancy whining, with a few bad boyfriend stories thrown in. Whenever the former librarian would pick up the phone, she'd subtly keep him up to date on the 'Hyde situation,' as she'd dubbed it. Eric'd been expecting some complicated story of this fight and that squabble, various hook-ups and break ups and letters and phone calls and possibly a divorce, but Brooke had informed him that it was pretty simple, actually.

Meaning, he hadn't called, he hadn't written, he didn't know she was pregnant, and she wasn't too inclined to inform him. Eric had the inkling that it had something to do with the wedding announcement that his mother had sent to him, the 'second ceremony' that WB had hosted for the 'happy couple.'

Eric sometimes wondered how they'd gotten so far away from who they used to be. He looked at this picture of his once best friend, standing with his arm looped around a washed-out looking blonde, his eyes no longer sharp and quick, but dull and empty looking. He stared at the clipping for a long time, trying to remember who it reminded him of, before he recalled seeing Bud and Edna's wedding portrait years ago at Hyde's old house. He thought of Jackie and promptly threw up in the sink.

He had pictures on his walls of Kelso and Brooke's wedding, with Jackie doing her maid of honor thing in a blue dress with her stomach slightly bulging. Photos of Jackie and Betsy, playing and laughing. Of Kelso talking to Jackie's stomach, making her laugh. Of Brooke and Jackie in matching green hats, leaning over the Missouri River on St. Patrick's Day. Her face greeted him whenever he walked through the door, reminded him of basements and cheese maidens with way too much hope. His Donna photos had long been locked away in a storage locker in Cape Town, and he liked to tell himself that it was too painful, that he'd rather look at Jackie, his unexpected friend but comfortable friend.

He remembered her wild stories of going to New York, becoming an actress, a model, a designer, of having her own clothing line and perfume brand and TV show. He saw her here in discount fashions and tired circles under her eyes and felt cheated on her behalf, but her smile was mostly genuine and she glowed through on paper and made his nights brighter, so he didn't question it. That much.

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"Her name is Veronica."

Her voice sounded like distant cymbals crashing together, a cacophony of some strange mix of pain and exhilaration that made his chest ache a little. The plastic of the phone was pressing into his ear and his legs burned from sitting in one place for so long, but he couldn't bring himself to hang up and subject himself to that window of time when he wasn't listening to her voice.

"Why Veronica?"

He heard her chuckle a little. "It was the doctor's wife's name." She let out a small little breath. "It hurt so much, I thought that it was going to rip me open. I was so grateful to Doctor Albertson, he was so calm and he held my hand through some of the contractions. By the time she was born I was so exhausted I told him to choose the name, just to make it something pretty."

He laughed. "Middle name?"

"Erica," she deadpanned.

"Bull."

She paused, and then laughed again. "Got me. Like I'd name a kid after _you_, jeez." She laughed again, and he felt kind of dizzy. "No, I named her middle name after Brooke. Veronica Brooklyn Burkhardt."

"That's a beautiful name, Jackie."

"It is, isn't it?" She sounded happy. "She's so gorgeous. Her eyes are brown, and the nurse said that all babies' eyes are brown at first so they might change, but I think they're going to stay brown," she said. "They look like chocolate."

"Stats?"

"Seven pounds, eight ounces," she rattled off. "Black curly hair. Brooke said she looks like me."

"Thank God," he quipped. "Can you imagine the horror if she had your hair and Hyde's...everything else?"

"Oh my God!" she squealed. "Don't even _joke_ about that!"

He laughed. "Send me pictures."

"I'll flood you with 'em."

"They can keep the other three million company."

"You know that seeing my beaming image every morning makes your life better, just admit it."

"Never." He paused. "I'm glad for you, you know."

"I know." Her voice was quiet and drowsy, he could hear her soft breaths over the line. Her voice was whisper soft. "I wish you were here." _I love you_, he thought.

His vision narrowed and his denial bubble popped. His breath shortened. Oh God. "I—I wish I was there, too," he stammered.

"Is everything okay?" Her voice was concerned.

"Yeah." He swallowed hard and made a hasty exit, hanging up the phone feeling like he'd been run over by a truck.

He leaned back and surveyed the 'Jackie wall,' her face staring back at him from practically every inch, making him feel more and more blind and stupid. Her voice in his head. _Well of _course_ you love me, who doesn't love me? I'm surprised it took you this long to figure it out. Moron_.

He leaned his head against the back of his chair, sipping his beer again. Well, it figured. Leave it to him to find the strangest possible way to complicate the hell out of everything.

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Hate it, love it, review it.


	2. Part Two

Wow, I wasn't expecting the response I got for this. I wasn't sure about how the pairing would be received, but I was pleasantly surprised. Thank you all, and don't forget to let me know how you felt about this chapter.

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Part Two

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He measured time in semesters now. Three semesters later, Veronica turned a year old. Two semesters after that, Jackie moved into her own place across the river from Brooke and Kelso's house. A semester later, and she landed a job managing a nightclub. Half a semester after that and she'd started singing openers for some of the bigger acts. Half the town knew her if not by word of mouth than by sight. She'd gotten the little taste of fame that she'd always wanted.

Two semesters later and she was thriving. The 'Jackie wall' was long past full and he had three photo albums stuffed to the brim. And then before he knew it she called him with a cheery greeting and cartoons in the background, wishing him a happy twenty-fourth birthday and when the hell was he gonna come visit?

Veronica was three and a half and he'd seen her only through phone lines and photographs and he'd exhausted all his energy and tolerance for Africa. He was less skinny and more tan than he was five years ago and his daydreams had switched from a Madison apartment with a redhead to a Chicago loft with two brunettes and he figured that that alone said that he was different enough now to justify returning to the States.

So he packed up the pictures and sent them in the mail on ahead and sold his car and gave notice on the lease and negotiated in half Swahili, half English with the landlord and did all the normal, adult things that were routine by now and bought a ticket and wondered when the hell he'd grown up because it felt like just yesterday he was some scrawny kid that people pitied because he had the disadvantage of being born Red Forman's son.

He slept on the plane and dreamt of waking up in his bed amongst Spider-Man sheets and the girl next door still young and subtly manipulative and Hyde in the basement watching Charlie's Angels and Jackie on Kelso's lap. But it was the eighties now and Hyde was (a jackass) gone and Kelso was married (and sober) and had a daughter and another on the way and Donna was who knows where and Jackie was picking him up at the airport. Red was in Florida in retirement and Charlie's Angels was canceled and things were so different, but for once he thought that might be a good thing.

She had no idea of his feelings, or if she did she never let on, and by all accounts he should be nervous and freaked out and practicing speeches and pick up lines, but instead he calmly sipped his small glass of soda and ate his peanuts and made faces at the girl in the seat in front of him and made her giggle. The plane taxied in and he didn't remember feeling this calm on the flight over during landing, and it was just yet another thing to add to the 'things that changed' list.

He walked into the main lobby, feeling out of place and too tan and that's when he saw her, looking exactly like the photos except warmer and substantial and smiling a smile he'd never seen before. And then, near her feet, a little girl sat, her dark hair bobbing in a ponytail on top of her head, her face buried in a coloring book, her tiny sneakered feet poking out from her little girl jeans. A pressure that he hadn't realized had been pressing on his chest released with a huge sigh, and he didn't even know where to begin.

She decided for him and two seconds after he reached them he was buried in a Jackie hug and she smelled like cigarette smoke and cinnamon and bananas (from Veronica, he assumed) and her hair was in his face and he hugged her back and felt real for the first time in a long time. When she let go she tugged him down to his knees and beamed at him, turning her bright eyes to her daughter, who was eying him carefully.

"Veronica, baby, this is Eric. You remember I told you about him."

"From the pictures," came the voice of the little girl, and it was Jackie's voice except smaller, and it was Jackie's eyes staring up at him (chocolate brown) and her hair and smile and he searched for anything Hyde but found nothing.

"Hi, Veronica," he said, marveling at the fact that his voice didn't crack.

"Hi," the girl replied timidly. He smiled at her and she blushed, burying her face in her coloring book again.

Jackie laughed and ruffled the girl's hair. "Shy one," she said fondly. Straightening up, she grinned at him again. "I'm so glad you're here," she said, and this time he initiated the hug, hoping it was enough.

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There was a party and Kelso and Brooke were there, and Fez drove up from Minneapolis where he owned his own general store (the candy was delicious, he'd heard) and Kitty and Red called about halfway through the night, alternately yelling at him for not coming to Florida first because it upset his mother (Red) and crying and telling him that he was meant for great things all along (Kitty) and did he get enough to eat at Jackie's because there were a few recipes that he could try?

He felt overwhelmed and exhausted and by the time everyone left, Veronica had fallen asleep on Eric's lap and Jackie was running around, carrying dishes to the sink and picking up toys and looking all like the personification of a busy mother that it made him laugh a little.

He carried Veronica into her bedroom, laying her on the bed and tucking her in, watching her small chest rise and fall in even measures. This little girl, this small, fragile life that Jackie, his Jackie had created. He no longer thought of Veronica in any way as Hyde's, there was no evidence apparent. The girl's hair was no longer curly as it'd been when she was born, nor was there any trace of Hyde in her features or structure. Jackie said it was because of her superior Burkhardt genes, and Eric was fine with believing that, but he had the lingering feeling that what Veronica lacked for in physical resemblances she'd eventually make up for in emotional or personality, and Eric couldn't decide which would be worse for Jackie—to wake up one day and see Hyde's face in her daughter, or to recognize him in her actions.

But right then Veronica was little and innocent and beautiful, and Eric kissed her on the forehead and shut the door behind him on his way out.

He walked into the small kitchen, seeing Jackie up to her arms in soapy water, her hair falling from its bun, wisps framing her face and neck. Her face was flushed from the alcohol from the party and the kitchen felt warm and steamy and he bet that if he put his arms around her she'd feel even warmer and maybe smell like dish soap.

"Need any help?"

She turned around and smiled, pulling the plug on the sink. "Nah, I'm done." She grabbed a dishtowel and dried her hands briskly.

"Look at you, Susie Homemaker."

She blushed slightly to his amusement. "Someone has to be," she said, her eyes averted. Then, a deep breath, her chest rising visibly, and she met his gaze. "I _missed_ you," she said vehemently. "Every day, practically." She looked down at her feet than back up at him. "It's so strange," she said idly. "I never knew I was capable of missing you before."

She was so close and it'd been so long and he might as well, right? He practically fell into her and his arms closed around her tiny waist and her arms wrapped around his neck and her mouth opened underneath his. Something shifted that had been out of place for a long time and he started breathing again.

She was so tiny, so light, so easy to just lift her up on the counter like _that_, and push her down like _so_, and her hips fit right into his hands and her legs were fucking _hot_ and why hadn't they done this before? Oh yeah, the Devil thing might've had something to do with it.

Later in her bed, in her apartment, with her daughter down the hall and his suitcase in her closet, he laid his head against her shoulder. He felt her relax beneath him, the tense muscles unwinding one by one until she was boneless against the mattress.

This was it, he realized. He'd been searching so long for that 'I'm not a screw up' feeling, trying to hold on to it in Africa, moving around and trying to catch it like smoke between his fingers, and here it was the whole time. He felt incredibly ironic and glad and stupid and thankful and happy all at once, and for once he lay and decided not to question it.

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Hyde came back on a Saturday when Eric was at an interview for a position teaching history at one of the inner-city schools. Jackie had the night off so of course she was busier than ever, lining up the babysitter and 'cooking' (ordering) dinner and setting up candles and white tablecloths and all those little romantic things that she'd always wanted to do but never had the chance. Kelso had been, well, Kelso, and she knew that Hyde would've just made fun of her if she'd showed up with candles and a jazz LP. But Eric was different, the kind of different that she'd dreamt of and maybe never realized was possible for her before.

Veronica was dancing around the kitchen excitedly, singing along to a cassette of kids' songs that Kelso had bought her last week and occasionally helping her mother. She smoothed down the white linen that Jackie had spread out on the table and adjusted the flowers in the vase, narrowing her small eyes at them importantly for a few moments before deeming them with her approval. Jackie grinned as the girl strutted around below her feet, and to her credit didn't make that much of a mess when she knocked over the candle holders once or twice.

She didn't think twice when the doorbell rang, because she'd told the doorman that she was expecting the babysitter anyway, so when she flung the door open and Steven Hyde was standing on the other side she nearly screamed in alarm. "Jackie." He said her name like a challenge, that's how he'd always said it, like he was expecting her to come back and demand that he call her some kind of fluffy nickname like 'snookums' or 'honey bee.'

"Steven Hyde." They stared each other down for a few moments. "Where's Sam?"

"In the car."

There was silence for a few more seconds before the tape in the kitchen turned off and Veronica came into the foyer. "Mama, phone's ringin'."

Hyde's gaze switched to the little girl and his expression hardened. Jackie felt a cold fist of fear clench around her heart. She tore her eyes away from Hyde and walked over to Veronica. "Go back to your room, baby," she said, patting the girl on the shoulder. The girl gave Hyde a detached, curious look, but because she adored her mother, she just smiled and skipped back down the hall.

Taking a deep breath and steadying herself, she walked to the telephone on the wall and answered it. "Hello?"

"Jackie, Fez just called me." It was Brooke. "Hyde's on his way from Nevada, Kitty told him about Veronica."

"You think?" she said sarcastically.

"He's there?.!" Brooke said, her voice panicky.

"Yeah," she said vaguely, feeling his gaze on her back. "Okay, if you're sure," she said loudly. "You're sure it's an emergency and you need me _right now_?"

"Wha—oh!" Brooke said, surprised. "Yeah, _total_ emergency. You should race over here. Right this second."

"Okay, I'll be right there." She hung up the phone, barely refraining from slamming it. "Veronica! Get your stuff, babe, we're going over to Aunt Brooke's a little early!" she called.

She whirled back around to face Hyde before she lost her nerve. "Sorry Hyde, but I have to go. So sorry we don't have time to catch up," she spat.

"Running away again, Jackie?" he said. "I'm not surprised."

"_I'm_ running away?" she asked incredulously. "That's rich."

His jaw clenched, he looked like he was fuming. He was quiet a second and his hand tightened on the door jamb. "_How_ could not tell me?"

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "You mean how I couldn't tell you that you knocked me up after screwing me and then breaking my heart ruthlessly... again? How I couldn't call you in Las Vegas with your stripper wife that my daughter has half your genes?" She shook her head. "I'd have thought you'd be glad that I didn't make you take responsibility."

His eyes were burning. "Don't bring Sam into this. The fact remains that you're the same as ever, Jackie, only thinking of yourself." His voice rose until Jackie was afraid that the neighbors would hear.

"Don't you _dare_ yell at me here," she hissed. "If you do anything to scare Veronica, you will regret it, I promise you." He just stared at her, silently fuming. Jackie shook her head, sighing. "What do you want?" she asked tiredly.

He stayed quiet. "I..." he trailed off.

"Do you want to know her? Help me raise her?" Jackie asked briskly. "Want her to have your last name? Do you and Sam want to live with a four year old half the year?" He flinched. "Does Sam even know?" He stayed silent still. "That's what I thought," she said, drained. "I have to go."

She turned on her heel and walked down the hall, walking into her daughter's room. She waiting until she heard the front door close until smiling at Veronica, who was playing on the floor innocently. "Ready to go, sweetie?"

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Two hours later, Eric got back to the apartment to find Jackie on the couch, silent tears tracking their way down her cheeks. A half-set dinner sat on the table, candles unlit and music unplayed. He dropped his coat and seated himself next to her, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

"Kelso told you?" she asked, laying her head against his chest.

"Yeah." He kissed her temple. "Do you still love him?"

She was quiet for a beat. "Kinda," she admitted. "Do you still love Donna?"

He shrugged. "Sorta, yeah." He had felt unsure about divulging this to her, but now that it happened he knew he shouldn't have worried that she wouldn't understand.

They sat in silence for a long time. Then, Jackie moved her head so that her chin was resting on his shoulder and looked up at him lazily. "I have food," she offered.

"Good," he replied. "Wait, you didn't cook it, did you?"

She laughed and smacked him playfully.

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There should be at least one more part left. Don't forget to review.


	3. Part Three

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Part Three

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Romance was experienced in short, sweet moments in the apartment, in between work and Veronica and cooking and Betsy play dates and 'Brooke incidents,' which was the polite name that Jackie had dubbed for when her friend came down with a particular nasty case of pregnancy hormones and kicked Kelso out of the house. He'd come to the apartment, play with Veronica and eat dinner, and before Carson came on, Brooke was calling in tears, saying that it was too lonely and she was so sorry and maybe could you pick up a Big Mac on your way home?

They'd come to a sort of unspoken agreement on the living arrangements; Eric didn't have an apartment of his own, yet he kept some stuff in Kelso's basement as a kind of safety net, somewhere that they both knew they could fall back on in case something went wrong, in case they needed space. It didn't get used much.

They fell into a kind of blissful routine, thankfully Jackie worked nights mostly, so she was there during the day to watch Veronica while Eric was teaching classes, and vice versa, and they tried their hardest to grab time to be alone in between. This was harder than they thought it would be, but thankfully they'd both become very accustomed to shower sex in the mornings.

Sometimes Jackie had to pinch herself into believing that it was real. Eric had been this unattainable 'what if' ever since before Veronica was born. She'd struck up this strange long distance friendship with him accidentally, and just kind of fell into the habit of talking to him over the years, and he'd always been the shiny fantasy in the back of her head that she so desperately wished for, but realistically thought she never could have.

She'd watched Eric and Donna for years, together, apart, happy or not, but regardless of the current state of their relationship, they'd always _loved_ each other, that much was forever true. She used to sit in the basement and watch Eric watch Donna sometimes. In the beginning, he looked at her with a mixture of disbelief and awe. Later, he looked at her like she was the answer to all his questions, which she probably was. After a few breakups, he no longer looked at her like the sun set and rose to her face, but rather with a kind of comfortable affection and unwavering dedication that had weathered so many storms.

She longed so much for that, just one person in her life who she could count on no matter what. Her parents were never like that for her, and if she wanted to self-analyze she'd realize that they were the root to a lot of her insecure clingy problems. She wished for it so badly that some nights she thought she'd die from the pain of not having it, and it was just so _unfair_. What did she do wrong? What was so hideous, so disgusting, so wrong with her that she had all these things she _wanted_, these looks and money and popularity, but she couldn't for the life of her find the one thing she _needed, _which was just one fucking person out of billions who would back her up and make her feel less alone.

She looked at Eric looking at Donna like he was her back up, and he was and she was so jealous sometimes. What was so good about Donna that she got to have the one thing that Jackie yearned for more than anything else? I mean, it's not like Donna was evil or anything, she was a good friend and a good person (something Jackie grudgingly admitted) but it wasn't like she was Mother Theresa or anything. Plus, look at what she already had—two loving parents, albeit fighting ones, talent, beauty, kindness... and Eric, who _loved_ her and _always_ watched her in the basement.

Jackie built their relationship up in her mind as the ideal, the place to aspire to, and she tried so hard to get there with both Kelso and Hyde. Granted, she was a little misguided in her attempts with Michael, but she was barely a teenager then, cut her a little slack. Steven Hyde, though, Hyde was her salvation and her condemnation. She'd given parts of herself away willingly, offered them up on silver platters sprinkled with hope and affection, and she'd stood by while he knocked the platters out of her hands with his sarcastic one liners and nurses and strippers, and she cried as she watched those parts of her heart fade away into red smoke in front of her eyes.

Jackie knew she'd never forget the abject humiliation of standing in that record store that morning after. She'd dressed up so nicely, wearing that skirt she knew he loved to look at her legs in, and sprayed that body spray he liked on her neck and wrists. She'd just flounced in there, happy and daring to hope that something was going right for once and she'd stopped dead in her tracks when the sight of Steven—_her_ Steven, who'd given her his Led Zeppelin t-shirt and shaved his beard and followed her to Chicago—Steven Hyde, with his arms wrapped around the stripper he'd left her for.

But shining through that overtly painful memory was the memory of Eric's voice over the phone line, calm and steady and comforting. She could recall only scraps of sentences from that call, yet she knew that that moment was the turning point, from when Eric ceased to be an idealistic, detached dream to an actual possibility.

He didn't know how she'd looked forward to his calls, how she soaked in every word he uttered of his life. She'd sit on the phone for hours with him, especially late in her pregnancy, hanging on his every word, picturing the villages he described and the children he talked about. Seeing him in her mind's eye, working with the people, spreading knowledge and teaching and making lives better. Pictured him in his apartment, on the phone with her, holding the pictures that she'd sent him in her slightly desperate attempt to keep herself entrenched in his life.

He did know that she realized how real and deep her feelings were right around Veronica's first birthday, when he'd sent her a pendant from Nigeria, black wood with a blue stone set in the middle. It was a harmless little trinket, barely worth the mail fare, but he said it made him think of her when he was passing through this small town, and bought it on a whim. She'd held the piece of jewelry in her small hand, running her fingers around and over it and wrapping it around her neck and her ankle and her wrist, feeling the contours and shape and the feel of it on her bare skin. She'd thought of the fact that Eric had been the last person to touch this before she did. The thought was innocently erotic, in its own way, and maybe it was because she hadn't had sex in two years at that point, or maybe it was because it was another turning point for her, but the thought of Eric's hands and her hands on this small necklace had sent her running for a cold shower. That was strange in itself, but the fact that the feeling the necklace had given her had multiplied upon hearing his voice during his next call gave her significant pause.

She told him that on one of his first nights back, and he laughed. "You're so strange," he said, almost in wonder, definitely in amusement. Then he called her a nympho and she called him a pervert because she knew that he liked it, to which he had no justifiable argument for. Then he'd pulled her by her waist over to settle on top of him and pressed up against her right _there_ and asked her where the necklace was now and she'd stopped thinking coherently around that point.

At any rate, she was happy now, the kind of happy that she didn't know she was capable of. It was a combination of comfort and contentment and affection, and many times she'd caught herself in a so clichéd, stunningly normal scene with Eric and Veronica, washing dishes or cleaning or coloring with Veronica while Eric graded papers across from her, and it just felt so _right_ that Jackie dared to think the word 'family.'

Veronica and Eric got on amazingly, Jackie was relieved to find. Veronica completely idolized him, partly from the stories that Jackie used to tell her, but mostly from his raw charm that even five years in a foreign, harsh country hadn't managed to dull.

And of course Eric loved her right back, just like he loved every child he came into contact with. Jackie never thought of herself as a sentimental person—romantic, maybe—but when it came down to choosing between performing a random act of kindness for a stranger and, say, shopping? Well, Jackie had always without a doubt headed for her credit card.

But watching Eric teach was different. He had a gift for it, that was apparent, and it was almost hypnotizing for her to see. He was so natural, so comfortable with every kid he came into contact with. It was like he had an instant connection with every single student, and within a few weeks of contact, Eric would root out that hidden stunt or problem and release it. It was compelling to watch, and no wonder she loved to visit him at work.

He had a calling, and sometimes, Jackie was ashamed to admit, she was jealous of it. He just fit right in to teaching, it didn't matter where he was or whom he was with, as long as he had to ability to pass knowledge on he was happy, while Jackie was still searching for something that called out to her like that. Singing at the club was all well and good, but after the initial shiny excitement effect wore off, she started cringing at the posters of herself on bulletin boards advertising the club, and on those nights when she did three shows in a row and didn't get home until dawn she started resenting her job and yearning to be at home with Eric and Veronica.

She'd thought of maybe trying to go back into news casting, but her horrendous experience with Christine St. George haunted her. She'd told all this to Eric, and he'd said that if she hated the job so much than she should quit, and she was sorely tempted. But even with the added help of Eric's small income, she still was struggling to make ends meet, what with the trust fund having been turned into a 'college fund' on Red's advice. No daughter of hers was going to go through this, she vowed. The feeling that you didn't know what to do with your life, where to go, or even who you are was the worst that Jackie had ever felt, aside maybe from the various experiences of heartbreak in her personal life. She promised herself that Veronica was going to be better than she was, than all of them were.

So she cut down on nights at the club and offered to balance the books every month, a job that paid more but was avoided among the staff due to the owner's tendency to just stick everything in a Heineken box and figure that he'd get to it later.

So while things might not be perfect like she'd daydreamed, they were a hell of a lot better than they ever had been in the past, and Jackie was grateful for it. She felt like she was walking a tightrope a lot of the time, one wrong step and it was all fall to the ground, but there were moments when she never doubted that it'd be worth it, and that was all she'd ever really needed.

00

There was still the issue of Donna that neither of them had really dealt with. Not that she was really an 'issue,' per say, just that when they'd gone up to visit Fez in Kelso's new van (even better than his last two, he'd informed them excitedly) there were framed pictures of Donna and Randy on Fez's 'celebrity wall' in his shop. The photo looked recent to Jackie—Donna was definitely in eighties style clothing and her hair was red again. She asked him when it was taken and he told her a few weeks ago and gave her Donna's phone number while glancing over at Eric nervously, as if he was afraid that he was doing something wrong.

Jackie sat on the number for a while, meaning to tell Eric but really not, feeling like this might be the wrong step she'd been thinking about, whichever way she went. In the end, she left it on the bathroom sink for him to find one morning before he left for work, and refrained from running back and flushing it down the toilet. When she got back from the club he was waiting up for her, and he handed her the phone and told her it was her decision.

"That's sweet," she said. "But no, it's not."

He smiled and tugged her down on the couch with him as he dialed, and she tucked her face into his neck when she answered.

She listened as they exchanged awkward pleasantries, and listened as he told her some brief stories about Africa. When the word 'Randy' came up, she felt him stiffen slightly, and so she got up and went into Veronica's room to give him some privacy.

She distracted herself by playing blocks with the little girl so she wouldn't think about what they were talking about or picture what their wedding would have been like if Eric had stuck around.

It was a long time, at least twenty minutes, before he came back in and collapsed on the floor next to her. He looked tired and when he smiled at Veronica, it fell a little flat.

"How'd it go?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Better than it could have gone," he replied. "I told her about this." He gestured around the room vaguely, referring to whatever life they were leading together now, defined or not, Jackie assumed.

"What'd she say?"

"Nothing much. She thanked me for telling her, and then she said she had to go."

Jackie sighed. She and Donna had drifted apart that last year in Point Place, and though Jackie would never tell her this, she resented her friend for not being there for her more often, for being insensitive with her companionship with Sam, for not standing up for her, for a lot of things that maybe weren't completely Donna's fault, but weren't completely not her fault either. She'd hoped someday to maybe reconcile or reconnect, but as of now she didn't see that happening.

He slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in to rest on his chest, and she relaxed in to him, like always. It still mystified her how easy it was to relax when in his presence. She felt him kiss her forehead and her anxieties slip away. They spent the rest of the night building a block castle with Veronica.

00

It turned out that Kitty's invitation for Jackie to come visit anytime was actually for real, so two months before Veronica was scheduled to start school they received an envelope in the mail with three plane tickets and a note from Red telling them to get their asses to Florida because plane rides were expensive.

So they locked the apartment and dropped the key off with Brooke and boarded with three suitcases and a backpack of Veronica's books and toys. Eric spent the flight telling Veronica stories about the various planes, trains and automobiles that'd he'd traveled on in Africa, and it was in the middle of the 'elephant taxi in Pretoria' story that she fell asleep.

The Forman condo was located in a small neighborhood outside Orlando, away from the bustle of the city, yet not too close to the carelessness of the shoreline. Eric carried a sleeping Veronica up to the front stoop while Jackie balanced the essentials of the luggage and both nearly dropped their burdens when the door flew open by the force of Kitty.

She fussed over the slumbering girl, instructing Eric to set her down on the couch in the living room while yelling at Red to come in and help with the bags. As soon as Jackie had set them down she was engulfed in Kitty's arms, and for once Jackie relished in the feeling. It was like coming home, in a way, she'd practically grown up with these people, but this mother's hug felt slightly misplaced and empty in the way that one hugs someone who does not completely belong to them.

When Kitty finally got a hold of Eric he was trapped within her grip for a good fifteen minutes, at least until Red came in from the garage. He rolled his eyes and hugged her back, motioning for help to Jackie, but she just giggled and shook her head. Red finally tore her off of him and when she finally pulled back he saw that she was hiding tears, something that surprised him. Kitty had never kept her emotions secret before.

The three sat down to dinner in the living room and talked about usual things. Eric talked about Africa and Jackie was amazed that he could meet six different people and still have stories about his time away that she'd never heard before.

Later, after Kitty led Jackie into the kitchen, asking questions that made her (of all people) blush, Red and Eric settled down in the den. They sipped beer and avoided talking about heavy things until there were at least four empty cans on the coffee table, which was when Red sighed and looked over at Eric with his piercing 'are you being a dumb ass yet or not?' look.

He motioned to Veronica who was still out like a light, her legs on Eric's lap. "She's Steven's kid, Eric."

"Yeah."

Red was silent for a long time. "Steven... is still in Las Vegas."

"Yeah." It was a statement, rather than a question, but Eric answered anyway.

Red looked between him and Veronica a few times, than shook his head disgustedly and sipped his beer. "I hope you know what you're doing," he said with a sneer. "...dumb ass."

Eric grinned and smoothed Veronica's hair down affectionately. It was as good of an approval as he was gonna get.

00

Of course being that Veronica slept all through dinner meant that she was up all night, so about three am found all three of them in the backyard of the Forman home. Jackie had dug out a mason jar from the kitchen and given it to Veronica, who had squealed in delight and immediately started chasing after the various fireflies buzzing around in the backyard. Eric settled down on one of the lawn chairs and Jackie sat on his lap, snuggling into his jacket against the cool night air.

"So did you get the sex talk or the 'what the hell are you doing with your life' talk?" she asked after a while.

"'What the hell are you doing with your life' talk," he replied. "But he's getting old, so at least there weren't any feet involved." Jackie giggled a little. "Did you get the sex talk?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh my God, Eric." She pulled back a little, a disgusted look on her face. "She gave me _condoms_."

He burst out laughing. "I love my mommy," he said playfully.

"Ew." Her nose wrinkled adorably and he leaned forward and kissed it. "Charmer."

They bantered back and forth for a bit before Jackie sighed and leaned her forehead against his temple. "Do you think we're making a mistake?" she asked.

He was silent, watching Veronica race around, her dark hair blending into the inky blackness of the night, and feeling Jackie's warmth seeping through her clothes. He shrugged a little. "We might be," he said. "Right now I don't really care, though."

Jackie smiled and couldn't help but agree.

00

Thank you all for your kind reviews. This doesn't feel finished to me, so there'll probably be another chapter and/or epilogue. I really have no idea, since I'm just going with the flow.

What, you thought I had a plan for this? Ha. Think again.


	4. Part Four

The time jumps are kind of confusing this chapter, I know. Pay close attention to Veronica's age.

00

Part Four

00

It was four weeks later when Hyde came back again, and didn't leave right away, either. Eric answered the door this time and was struck momentarily dumb by the picture his once-best-friend made, standing at the door jamb, already in a defensive posture.

"Forman?" came the incredulous voice as expected.

He shook his head tiredly. Great, this was just what he needed. "Hyde," he said curtly. "Come in."

He stepped aside and let him come in, watched him eye the apartment warily, probably looking for Jackie. "So, when did you get back, man? Last I heard you were still in Africa."

"My mom didn't tell you?" Eric asked dryly. "I thought she might've, as you two seemed to have developed a sort of rapport."

Okay, that might have been a little defensive and bitter on Eric's part, but to his credit he was remembering the sick look of betrayal and fear on Jackie's face when she told him about Hyde's last visit.

Hyde shifted and looked uncomfortable. "No, I haven't talked to her since she told me about…you know."

Eric raised an eyebrow. "Duly noted."

There was an awkward pause. "What are you doing here?" Hyde finally burst out, and Eric applauded him for lasting even the short time that he did before voicing it.

"Here in Chicago, or here in Jackie's apartment?"

Hyde looked irritated. "In Jackie's apartment, you tool."

Tool. He's the tool now. Okay. "I live here."

"You…" Hyde trailed off, his face blank, then started to laugh. "You live here? Yeah, nice try."

"It's the truth, man."

"No it isn't," he replied, his smile fading.

"Yeah, it is."

"No. It isn't." His voice was serious and Eric tensed.

Just then, because she always did have quite perfect timing, Jackie came floating into the room. "Eric, have you seen my hand lotion? I swear I left it in the bedroom, but it's—" she came fully into the room and noticed Hyde, cutting herself off. Her eyes quickly assessed the situation, going back and forth between the two men in her foyer, and made a snap decision. "Eric," she switched tones. "Would you be so kind as to show our…guest…the door? It's late, we should be getting to bed."

Hyde's expression froze. "What the fuck?" he demanded.

Eric exchanged a long look with Jackie, then rolled his eyes and opened the door again. "You heard the lady," he said, motioning out to the hallway. "Skedaddle."

"Forman, what the fu—"

"Excuse me, could you please refrain from using such language in the same small apartment as my five-year-old daughter?" Jackie 'asked' tersely.

"Our daughter," Hyde managed to say.

"No, my daughter," Jackie snapped. "And if you think for one second that by coming back here than you're going to get custody or time or any say in her life whatsoever, you are sorely mistaken." Hyde glared at her ferociously. "Now, I believe that my boyfriend asked you to leave," she said, her eyes switching to Eric briefly, then back to Hyde, challenging.

Hyde fumed for a second, and then shot one last glare at Jackie before moving through the door. At the last second, he stopped and turned to Eric. "I thought you were my friend, man," he said. Eric said nothing, but thought of wedding announcements and pregnant cheerleaders and strippers and no contact for six years.

As soon as Hyde was through, he slammed and locked the door and turned to Jackie. "Did you do that to make a point?"

"Do what?" Jackie asked, bewildered.

"The thing!" Eric said, throwing up his hands. "The 'boyfriend' thing, the sultry voice thing, the 'let's jump into bed' thing!"

Jackie looked at him, stuck between worry and amusement. "Well…yeah," she said.

He sighed. "Jackie—" he cut himself off.

"Are you angry?" Jackie asked incredulously. "Eric, I was trying to get rid of him! I don't want him here, and I knew that he would get mad if he knew about us, so I told him. Or…showed him, more like." Eric was silent and his jaw tightened. "He would've found out eventually anyway," she went on. "What is so wrong with that?"

Eric shook his head. "Nothing," he said after a long, tense moment. "Nothing. I don't wanna fight."

"Neither do I," she said. Warily, she approached him and slipped her hands up his chest to rest on his shoulders. "Are we good?" she asked softly.

His hands smoothed down her back to rest on her hips. "Yeah," he murmured into her cheek.

"Good," she replied. "Now, I believe I ordered you to bed not just a moment ago."

00

He was struck by how harsh everything was.

In Africa, things were hard, so hard that he had to look away to keep himself together at times. The memory of that first dead little boy stuck in his mind, overlapped with the memory of that first meaningful phone call with Jackie, the first stepping stone to the huge plateau that he was spreading himself out on with this woman and her child.

In Africa, there was death and suffering and things were never fair; but there was also hope and optimism. He looked into those kids' eyes and saw innocence and trust, and it was a beautiful thing because he never remembered anything but monotony from his childhood. And he knew for a fact that he never blindly followed like those kids did, never put his life in the hands of another because there was nothing else to do, because doing something else meant AIDS or starvation or poverty or death.

Here in Chicago, it was different. It was glossy and messy and dirty and fast and hard, and he never got used to it, not really. Chicago kids had it easier than Africa kids sometimes; sometimes they had it harder, but the difference was that these kids had no hope. No trust. No optimism. No future, people told them, and they believed it blindly. While in Africa he'd be able to teach a kid to read in a month, here it took him a year to convince him to open up a damn book. It was frustrating and hard and heartbreaking and he loved and hated doing it.

By the time Veronica was eight years old Jackie had bought the club and was running it with the help a few staff members, including Kelso as a silent investor. The money was good (finally) and allowed Eric to concentrate more on his students and Veronica (who was already a year ahead of her grade in reading material). Life was easy and comfortable, yet at the same time incredibly challenging and irritating; but it was real and there was laughter and sometimes crying, and he couldn't imagine himself anywhere else.

The only down point could that could be identified came in the form of Steven Hyde. He'd left suspiciously easily after that second visit to the apartment, which had mystified Eric, who'd been expecting at least one more outburst. Then, Grooves opened up a record store branch on Lake Shore Drive, so Hyde did come back to Chicago on a periodic basis, always with the human buffer of Samantha at his side. He never came to the apartment, never asked to see Veronica, only hovered on the edge of their lives, always a source of tension and always annoying the ever living holy hell out of Jackie.

"What does he want!" she'd rant to no one. "What the hell is he thinking he can accomplish? We have a good life, I gave my daughter a good life with no help from him, what the hell does he _want_?"

"He's just here for his job," he'd recite. Again.

When Veronica was nine, Fez called and said that the Point Place High's twelve year reunion was in a month, and that the whole gang was required to attend. Jackie had rolled her eyes when Kelso showed her the official invitation. "On threat of what? Is he gonna yell 'good day' at us over the telephone and hang up in a huff?"

"Either that, or send our kids porn," Kelso joked. Then that statement set in and twin expressions of horror appeared on every adult in the room. Brooke tightened her grip on her and Kelso's youngest, Daniel, protectively. "Damn!" he exclaimed. "Now we have to go."

Brooke agreed reluctantly, because everyone could plainly see the crappy job Kelso was doing to cover up his excitement at the prospect of seeing Fez again. While full-time fatherhood had matured the former stoner exponentially, he still had the air of innocent boyishness that had endeared him to both Jackie and Brooke, respectively, in the first place. Since Hyde had refused to keep in contact with Kelso or anyone (seems that he was still bitter about the fact that he had to hear about Veronica's existence from a slip up in a conversation with Kitty) he'd been disheartened, and Brooke confided in Jackie later on that she was hoping that the trip back home would bring back part of his spark.

Jackie seemed positively repulsed at the idea of going, but grudgingly agreed at the idea of cheering up Kelso. "Who has a twelve year reunion, anyway?" she grumbled.

"I heard that Lucy Kevins, the class president, had a nervous breakdown two years ago, so they had to postpone it to twelve years," Brooke replied. "I always knew that girl was whacked. One time she ranted to me for two hours because I sent my college applications all at once, instead of one at a time."

"Jesus. How do you think she would've reacted if she'd found out that you got pregnant a month before graduation?" Jackie asked.

"God forbid." She shook her head, looking horrified. "No one tell her."

So they all packed up and went home, for the first time in almost ten years, for some of them—and while Kelso had tried to get Jackie and Eric to take Veronica along in his van, they had adamantly declined, and so when they got there, Kelso and Fez were already talking and laughing, while Brooke was talking to some of her old classmates, balancing a sleepy Daniel on her hip.

Jackie shifted her weight nervously, looking around the slightly crowded gym in trepidation. Eric looked down at her fondly, her hair was pulled back in a loose bun and she was wrapped in a dark emerald dress with short heeled sandals—she looked tired and beautiful. Older and calmer. "What's wrong?"

"Ugh. This isn't my graduation class, Eric," she said. "I barely know anyone here." She was seized by a sudden thought and looked up at him. "What if Donna's here? She's gonna hate me."

"God Mom, she's not gonna hate you," Veronica said, rolling her eyes from her place at Eric's side. Then she looked up at Eric quizzically. "Who's Donna?"

Eric laughed. "She's just an old friend of ours."

"Friends? You have friends other than Uncle Kelso and Aunt Brooke?" she asked skeptically.

Jackie scowled at the mini-version of herself. "Ronnie, I see Betsy over by the food. Why don't you go visit with her for awhile."

Veronica scoffed. "Fine, fine. You guys are such dorks sometimes, I swear." She grinned at Eric surreptitiously in a 'Moms are so dramatic' way, then flounced off across the room, her dark ponytail bobbing in the air behind her.

"I'm so glad that she inherited my sarcasm," Jackie said sardonically. "It's really adding to my glowing mood."

Eric slipped an arm around her shoulders. "It's for Kelso and Fez, remember? And Donna doesn't hate you. She doesn't even know you anymore. It's not like she's gonna make a scene or anything."

Jackie leaned into him gratefully. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm just..." she shook her head, breaking off.

"Stressed," he supplied.

"Yeah."

He grinned. "Well, come on then, crazy girl. Let's go de-stress a little."

Jackie hid a smile. "I am _not_ crazy," she said staunchly.

"Of course you're not, dear."

00

Two hours later, maybe as a result of sticking pretty close to Brooke's side, Jackie surprisingly found herself having fun, or relaxing a little, at least. She'd found enough people who she at least recognized, or had recognized her, so she was feeling sufficiently less insecure. Not that it wasn't strange to be feeling insecure at all.

Glancing across the room, she caught sight of Eric talking to one of their old teachers, Veronica in front of him, her little feet balancing on Eric's. His arms were around her shoulders, and her small hands were gripping his belt, and it looked so natural that it almost made Jackie want to cry._ I want to marry him,_ she thought, and it would've surprised her if she hadn't been thinking about it for the past five years.

She'd even thought about bringing it up, but the delicate balance that they'd established upon Eric's return from Africa still seemed like such a fragile thing to her, even after almost six years of living together, raising Veronica, both of them pretending in their own ways.

And though Jackie cursed herself for it, Hyde's rejection and the heartbreaking situation that he'd enforced upon her through Samantha still lingered strongly in her mind. While Jackie never regretted for even a split second the fact that she had Veronica, and she was grateful to Hyde for helping, even in the small way that he did, to create her, Jackie never forgot the circumstances that surrounded Veronica's conception. She still found herself frozen in panic and anxiety at the prospect of feeling that kind of pain again, and even though she knew it was irrational on a conscious level, there were times when she'd look over at Eric and wonder how much time she had with him before he left.

"Jackie?"

The soft, quizzical voice brought her out of her brood--er, _musings_, and Jackie jumped slightly, turning around. It so figured that it'd be the person that she'd been dreading running into all night, taking her by surprise.

"Hey, Donna."

Donna looked good, she'd grown into herself, even more so than she had back when Jackie had known her. Her hair was cut short, the styled waves barely brushing her shoulders, the color the same soft red that Jackie remembered. She wore little to no makeup, her nails were bare, and she wore a simple blazer and dark brown skirt, but she looked...comfortable. Her old self, the part that Eric liked to call her 'inner cheerleader,' started dissecting the outfit, pointing out places where it could be improved, where Donna could make a little more effort, but she quickly and ruthlessly quashed the urge to comment.

"Long time no see," she said awkwardly. She stood there, shifting her weight nervously.

After a tense moment or two, Jackie rolled her eyes and motioned to the empty chair across from her at the vacated table she'd been hiding out in. "Sit down already. It's hurting my neck to look up at you."

Donna gave a hint of a smile and accepted the invitation, sitting down and tucking her legs underneath the tablecloth demurely.

There was another prolonged moment of tension. "So," Donna finally said. "Veronica's adorable."

_Ah, straight to the point. As always,_ Jackie thought. "Yeah," she agreed. "Too adorable for her own good, sometimes."

Donna chuckled. "Takes after her mother, in that, huh?"

Jackie laughed genuinely. "I guess."

Donna nodded, smiling, though once the moment of shared camaraderie passed, silence descended once more. Finally, Donna shook her head in annoyance. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" she asked bluntly. "Back in Point Place, I mean."

Jackie blinked, slightly blindsided. "I didn't tell anyone," she managed. "I didn't know how to deal with it."

"You told Kelso and Brooke," Donna said. "And Eric, apparently." The words were slightly bitter, but her tone was neutral. Not accusing, merely inquisitive.

Jackie winced. "I'm sorry. I guess I was...angry at you. I was angry at everyone." She sighed. "That wasn't exactly the highest point in my life."

"I know." Donna shrugged. "I wasn't angry, just...when I found out, I regretted...you know, not being there for you."

Jackie nodded and waved a hand. "Bygones. I did all right." Donna nodded and looked away, and Jackie followed her sight line to Eric, still swinging Veronica around on his feet. "I'm sorry about Eric," she blurted, not really realizing that she'd said it out loud until Donna swung her head back in surprise.

"Oh," she said, clearly not expecting the comment. "That's...that's okay."

"I didn't mean to steal him from you or anything. And I know it was kind of sleazy for him and me to take up with each other, I mean, you don't date your friends' exes and all that, but it just sorta..._happened_, you know?" Jackie's words poured out in a long, rushed flow. "I never meant to hurt you, or Hyde, or anybody." As soon as the words were out, Jackie felt an enormous sense of relief, realizing that she'd been needing to get this out for a long time.

Donna blinked dumbly for a second, then broke into a smile. "Jeez, Jackie, chill. It's not like Eric and I were dating when you two hooked up." She gave a small shrug. "In fact, I'm pretty sure that you two didn't get together until like, three years after he and I broke up, right?"

"Four years," Jackie said quickly, then blushed.

Donna laughed. "It's okay, really. No hard feelings." She tilted her head, looking over her shoulder back at Eric. "When he told me about you two, I admit, I was a little...jealous," she admitted. "But it was more...nostalgia, than anything else."

Jackie smiled, feeling her relief grow. "I'm so glad you're not angry," she said, then blew out a breath, laughing a bit. "Wow, I didn't realize how badly I needed to say that to you until just now."

Donna laughed along, and it was a good feeling, to be laughing with Donna Pinciotti again. "I know what you mean," she said. "We really lost touch, didn't we?"

Jackie nodded. "Uh-huh. I should've called," she admitted.

"I could've called too," Donna replied self-deprecatingly. "It's just been..." the redhead trailed off. "Life, you know?"

"Yeah." Jackie chuckled. "It's been a trip, all right."

Donna smiled, a little sadly. "He seems happy," she said quietly. "I'm glad."

Jackie shrugged. "He's really taken to Veronica," she said. "She loves him. And his job at the school--God, you should see him teach, Donna. It's so amazing." She shook her head.

"So you guys are doing okay?"

Jackie saw only curiosity and concern in Donna's gaze, and her smile faltered. "Yeah," she said hesitantly. "I mean, Hyde still comes to Chicago every once in awhile, and that's always a nightmare." She shook her head. "I dunno, Eric gets so distant whenever Hyde's in town, and he won't tell me why."

Donna shrugged, looking over her shoulder at Eric again. "Eric always was a little...stubborn," she said. "It was the little things that made him act like an idiot, but when it was big, he usually just clammed up until it exploded." Donna shook her head, her eyes distant. "You should talk to him. Trust me, the explosion is never fun."

Jackie's heart gave a painful thump. "You think so?" Donna nodded her head. "God, is this how you felt in high school? I mean, he's just so..." she trailed off, unable to find words.

"I know." Donna smiled fondly. "I remember."

Jackie let out a breath, shaking her head. "I'll talk to him," she decided. "You should, too. He'd be happy to see you again."

Donna shook her head, looking down at the watch encircling her wrist. "No, I shouldn't. I have to leave soon anyway. And Eric and I had our closure a long time ago." She stood up, pulling a white card from her purse. "Here. I work for a radio station in St. Louis. It's a ways away from Chicago, but there's always the telephone." She smiled, shrugging. "So we don't lose touch again?"

Standing up, Jackie accepted the card, feeling an unexpected wave of emotion wash over her. "I'm glad you came," she said. "We needed this, didn't we?"

Donna nodded, then pulled the smaller woman into a hug in a surprising display of physical affection. "I want pictures," Donna said. "Veronica's as cute as you, but when she's little, that fact is not nearly as annoying."

Jackie laughed. "Sure. Photos are something we have an abundance of." Pulling away, she smiled. "It was good to see you, Donna."

"Likewise." With a final wave and a look in Eric's direction, Donna left.

Jackie watched her go for a few moments, then turned back to the table. She sat down again, fingering the business card in one hand and taking a sip of her drink with the other. _"Eric and I had our closure a long time ago,"_ Donna had said, the words echoing in Jackie's mind.

_Closure_, she thought. The thought of Hyde rose up unbidden again, and she sighed, looking once again over to her daughter and Eric, suddenly realizing a little late what she had to do. _Crap_, she thought. _Eric will not be happy about this_.

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Yes, I'm back. Sorry for the long wait, but I kind of wrote myself into a corner. I'm slowly digging myself out. And I realize that everyone is a little out of character (Jackie especially) but keep in mind that ten years have passed. Eric is even pushing thirty. They've grown up a lot.

Also, I know I said this already, but I really think this is close to ending. Next will be the inevitable Hyde/Jackie confrontation, and I don't see the story lasting much longer after that.

Thank you for all your support, and the fact that there's still interest in this after so long with no update makes me feel very fuzzy inside. :)


	5. Part Five

I know I suck. But this is the last substantial chapter. Hopefully it answers some questions and gives Hyde and Jackie an adequate ending.

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Part Five

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Two weeks after the reunion, Jackie finally decided to stop stalling and sat down with Eric one night after Veronica had fallen asleep.

"I have to go see Hyde," she said. "When he comes back into town." Eric's face was blank, and the nervousness in Jackie's stomach increased. "Not for the reasons you think, or for the reasons that I think you think. Just...for closure."

"Closure," he repeated. "Uh huh."

"This doesn't change anything about you or us, or our life here with Veronica. But you know how it's been driving me crazy whenever he comes, and I need to put that part of myself to rest before I can move on completely."

He nodded, his face giving nothing away. "Okay, I get it. Really, Jackie."

She didn't believe him, of course she didn't--but it was clear that he was making an effort, which she appreciated. She climbed into his lap and buried his face in his neck, feeling his arms come around her, looser than usual. She breathed in deeply, inhaling his cologne, and tried to ignore the nagging feeling of worry.

The next few weeks were torture, for both of them. Jackie was a nervous wreck, the combination of worry over what Eric thought about her need to talk with Hyde and the fact that she didn't know when he and Sam would come back making her so jumpy that even her employees at the club noticed. It didn't help that Eric was completely stoic, even slightly cold, to her, ever since the conversation about Hyde.

To his credit, Eric had become self-aware enough over the years to realize what he was doing, and saw the effect it had on Jackie. It broke his heart to see the hurt on her face at times, but his biggest flaw had always been his pride, and he couldn't bring himself to stop. At night, he'd lay stiffly in bed, listening to her breathing, lamenting the fact that something so unexpectedly amazing had been twisted into something awkward, that where there was genuine intimacy before, there was now only silence thick with unsaid words.

He'd never said 'I love you' to her, he realized, on one of those nights. And neither had she said it to him. It seemed so strange, that six years had passed, six years in which she'd given him full disclosure to her life, that they'd never voiced it. He knew practically everything about her--how her mind worked, her fantasies, her dreams of one day moving into one of those Franklin Lloyd Wright houses in the suburbs, her secret desire to one day have more children. He'd memorized every inch of her body, listened to every complaint, compliment, rant, rave and lecture for the past decade. For God's sake, her daughter was practically his daughter too, if not by blood than by right--how was it that they'd made it this far without saying it? It was slightly mind boggling.

But more importantly, how had he never noticed?

The entire situation seemed so complicated, so heartbreakingly tangled that he felt suffocated at times. He knew that he loved her, both her and Veronica, he wouldn't have stuck around for this long if he didn't--but was it real love? Was it the kind of love that drove his parents down the aisle? That made Kelso give up pot and Brooke give up a collegiate future, in favor of meeting in the middle? Or were he and Jackie just using each other as a buffer to keep the lonesomeness away? Were they mistaking friendship for love because they were too scared to be alone?

The problem was, he couldn't tell. He'd only been in love once before, the kind of love that he'd thought was the real kind. He still wasn't sure if his breakup with Donna had happened because it wasn't meant to be or just because life got in the way, just like he wasn't sure about the same thing with Jackie and Hyde. At one time, he'd been the greatest supporter against _that_ particular relationship (not that he still wasn't now), but after spending almost four years watching those two break and hook up as if on-again-off-again relationships were going out of style, he'd grudgingly admitted that they did love each other, if nothing else. Eric had seen Jackie give up her dreams for Hyde countless times, and he'd always been slightly awed at how quickly she sacrificed her own happiness for him. Awed and repulsed at the same time.

It hadn't been very healthy, whatever it was. But it was intense. Strong and all-consuming, the kind of thing that still dogs your heels, even after ten years. Eric remembered the absolute sorrow in Jackie's voice the morning after Hyde had slept with her and discarded her just as easily, and even after all this time, it still didn't sit right with him. He knew Jackie. She became a different person whenever Hyde was involved. Her opinions didn't count. Her feelings didn't matter. Whenever Steven Hyde was in the picture, he overshadowed Jackie Burkhardt until she was just a ghost of herself, a pitiable doll who seemed only to exist to pander to his needs. Just like she'd been with Kelso, too, on a smaller scale.

Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. But _damn_ it, it was frustrating. She'd come so far, had grown into a beautiful, elegant, sophisticated woman who was independent and secure in her own personality, and then Hyde comes back into town and she immediately slips back into 'high school Jackie,' simpering about how she needs closure. Whatever. He couldn't help but be angry. Angry and hurt.

So Eric Forman could be an idiot, he realized this. Another problem was that even though he knew was being an idiot, he couldn't make himself stop. The pride thing again--he got that from Red. And wasn't he grateful for _that_ particular gene. Right.

So, even though he knew it was a bad idea, he deliberately went into work early the day that Jackie finally decided to visit Hyde. He'd been in town for a few days, and had avoided any former Point Place residents as usual, and Jackie had finally decided to just get it over with already. Eric knew that he should've given her some sort of encouragement or reassurance, maybe a hug or at least a kiss, but no. He had a test to write for his tenth graders--a test that he wouldn't give until next month, but it never hurt to work ahead. Which is why he was already gone when Jackie woke up.

Which is why she cried all the way to Hyde's hotel room, and was still crying when he opened the door.

"Jackie?"

In a futile gesture she wiped her face hastily, trying to scrape up the last of her dignity. "Hyde." Her voice was hoarse.

His face was unreadable behind his dark glasses. He stared at her for a long moment, then opened the door wider, allowing her to step through.

She went inside without a word, stepping into the apartment and looking around curiously. "Wow."

The word was justified – the apartment was gorgeous. It had wide, open windows, and the curtains were open, allowing a generous amount of sunlight to pour through to illuminate the room. Simple, stylish furniture filled the room, in stark shades of black and gray. The entire place screamed of elegance, reminding her starkly of the house she'd grown up in. She couldn't stop the shudder.

"Where's Samantha?"

"Work," he said shortly, voice coming from behind her. She jumped, not expecting him to be standing so close and stepped back instinctively.

"Ah. And how's that going for her?" she asked neutrally.

He scowled. "She's a waitress, Jackie. She stopped dancing years ago."

"Did I say anything?" she asked.

Hyde expelled a short breath. "What do you want, Jackie?" He winced, then uncrossed his arms awkwardly.

She stopped in the middle of the room, holding her arms over her chest protectively. "To know what _you_ want," she said. "I can't take this limbo anymore, Steven."

"What limbo?" He scoffed.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Hyde shrugged, looking down at the floor. After a long pause, his voice rang out loudly in the quiet apartment. "You should've told me about her."

Jackie was momentarily speechless, then quickly regained her composure. "I was going to," she said sharply. "You skipped town practically the next morning. I didn't find out until after you were gone."

"You should've found me, then."

"Found you?" She scoffed. "What, was I supposed to show up in Las Vegas with a huge stomach and a suitcase?"

"You could have," he argued. "Damn it, I deserved to know. She's my _daughter_." Anger flared in his face, visible even behind his designer sunglasses, and she took a breath, taken aback.

"Steven," she said after a moment. "Think about it. You're in Vegas, living the high life with your beautiful wife, amazing job, long lost, rich family. How would you have reacted to a pregnant ex? Really?"

He shrugged. "I dunno."

"Yes you do." Jackie blinked back tears, grasping her elbows fiercely. "You would've dropped everything. You would've dumped Samantha. You would've moved back to Wisconsin to take care of me."

He looked down, silent.

"And I would've accepted it. I would've taken you back. And we would've ended up in the same exact spot as we did in high school." Her voice broke. "It would've been horrible."

"How do you know?" he demanded. "You didn't give me a chance, you just decided everything all on your own."

"Yes, I did," she replied. "But I made the _right choice_, I know I did."

"Right choice," he said flatly. "For you. You cut me out of her life because you were mad at me for dumping you."

"That's not true!"

"It is true, Jackie!" He started to pace, his muscles moving angrily. "It's the same fucking thing you always used to do, you take one hint of something and run with it, and God forbid us mortals don't like it – "

"Don't yell at me," Jackie interrupted. "I didn't come here to yell."

"What did you come here for?" he asked. "You obviously don't want me in her life."

"Do you want to be in her life, Steven?" He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. "No. Think about it. Are you ready to be in her life _permanently_? Because I will not tolerate you floating in and out randomly. If you want to know her, than you will be there for her, no matter what. It's all or nothing."

He paused, fraught with indecision.

There was a stabbing pain in her heart, one that had lain dormant for so long, and it was making it very hard for her to speak. "Exactly," she said. "Exactly. You don't, not really. You're angry that I kept her from you, yes. You don't want to abandon her like Bud abandoned you. But those aren't reasons to be a father, Steven." She shook her head. "You didn't listen to me before. If I had told you, and we would've gotten back together…" she gave a small, bitter laugh. "It wouldn't have worked. I seem different, but I'm not. I still want the same things. I always have."

Hyde shook his head. "I don't…"

"A family, Steven. Marriage, children. Growing old with someone who adores me. That is the one thing that I want more than anything else in the world." Jackie's voice quivered with emotion, her pitch rising an octave higher than usual. "And you don't, Steven. You don't care either way."

"That's not true."

"Yes it is." She stared him down, and he looked away, silently acquiescing. "You would've done the right thing, sure. You would've supported me, tried to be a father to our daughter. But you wouldn't have cared as much I do. You wouldn't have put your whole heart into it, because it isn't what you want." She paused, the lump rising in her throat making it more and more difficult to speak. "You would've ended up resenting me and turned into this twisted, bitter man – " she threw up her hands. "You spend so much time trying to avoid turning into Bud that you forget all about _Edna_."

He flinched. "That's unfair."

"No, it's the truth." She clasped her hands in front of her, resolved. "I love you. A part of me will always love you. And I did what I did because it was the best thing for both of us." She paused, looking down. "Eric's an amazing father. He loves her so much. Please don't ruin it for them."

He struggled for a few moments, fists clenched. "I could've been her father," he said tightly.

Jackie sighed. "What's her name, Steven?"

He snapped his head up, opening his mouth, yet no sound came out. He stood stock still, every muscle rigid, before shaking his head, clamping his mouth shut.

"That's what I thought." She smiled sadly, the tears slipping down her cheeks. "It's Veronica," she said quietly. "Veronica Burkhardt."

He made a small sound, a groan or maybe a grunt. She wasn't sure.

"Thank you for giving her to me," she said quietly. "But please, please – " she choked, breaking off. "Just let it go, okay?"

She stood there, holding her breath, and watched him quietly. He looked down at the floor, the muscle in his jaw ticking. She could see his hands shaking from the exertion of keeping them so tightly clenched, and she felt a wave of tenderness bubble up inside her. There was a time when this man was everything – everything – to her, in a way that Michael and Eric weren't. Michael was her dream, but Steven – Steven was her fairytale, the plot stolen straight from a romance novel. The annoying, scruffy loser who did everything he could to break the rules, in love with the beautiful princess. Everything they did together, they did with passion.

Which was their problem, in the end. Passion is nothing without trust and understanding to back it up, and while they had plenty of chemistry, plenty of emotion, they had absolutely no base. Of all of Jackie's planning and dreaming, all of her crying and cursing his name after the Samantha incident, deep down she knew why he'd done it. Why he'd ran the morning after, why he'd ran to Samantha in the first place. It was the same reason that she hadn't ever let herself become vulnerable to him, why she hadn't ever explained to him the things she wanted in a way that he could understand.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "We're not…meant to be. It wasn't supposed to last."

He nodded tightly and swallowed, and she watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat. "Fine," he said finally, voice hoarse. "I – I'd like to keep tabs on her, if that's okay."

She nodded silently, biting her lip. "I can send you stuff," she offered. "Book reports and things."

"That would be…okay."

"Okay." She walked towards the door, giving him a wide berth. Pausing, she turned around momentarily, focusing on his back. "Thanks," she murmured.

He said nothing, and she left the apartment in silence.

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Eric and Veronica returned home that afternoon to find Jackie fast asleep on the living room couch, tear stains still evident on her cheeks. "Why's Mom asleep?" The little girl frog-hopped over to the couch. "It's like, _ten_ hours before bedtime!"

"Ten hours, huh?" Eric chuckled. "That is a long time away. She must be extra tired. Why don't we let Mom sleep?"

"But I wanted to show her my new library book."

"You can show her later, honey. Go put your school stuff away in your room, okay?"

He left her undisturbed for the better part of the evening, fixing Veronica a quiet dinner and keeping her occupied away from the living room to let Jackie sleep. He resisted the urge to shake her awake and demand details on her meeting with Hyde, to make her end the ugly, irrational, jealous scenarios that'd been floating through his imagination all day.

It'd been an exercise in restraint to keep from rushing over to Hyde's apartment and dragging her out by her hair. All day, over and over in his head – Was he kissing her? Was she kissing him? Was he falling at her feet, begging for a second chance? Was she jumping at the chance to have him, Veronica's biological father, in her life?

The idea terrified Eric. The truth was that he loved Veronica, more than he'd ever loved anybody. It was powerful and wonderful, and the thought that for the past six years Jackie had been using him as a stand-in father for her until Hyde came around was enough to make him want to collapse in despair.

He just wanted this so badly. It was a desire coming from the purest corner of his heart, the desire to be Veronica's father. Jackie's husband. A father to future children. He wanted to see their faces every day, he wanted to take care of them, to support them and be there every single moment. He wanted to see Veronica grow up, to go to her dance recitals and her parent-teacher conferences. He wanted to be there for her graduation, for her first love, her first heartbreak. He wanted to walk her down the aisle at her wedding.

And he wanted to do it all with Jackie. He wanted her to have his name, to share his bed and be in his life in a very permanent way. He wanted to keep her from getting too worked up over things, to smooth her frowns when she got angry, to make her laugh when she was sad. He wanted to wake up to her face every morning, to – he just _wanted_.

Veronica conked out halfway through _Sesame Street_, still being young enough that a normal day exhausted her. He put her to bed quickly, turning the television off when he saw Jackie stirring from the noise.

He was caught in indecision for a moment, stock still in the middle of the room, watching her restless form. Then he leaned down to her level, tenderness winning over, and moved the hair away from her face gently. "Jackie," he whispered. "Sweetheart."

Her eyes fluttered open, immediately moving to his face. Slowly, a tentative smile spread across her face, and in that moment, all thought of Hyde fled. "Hi."

"Hi."

She bit her lip, looking downwards. "I'm so sorry," she murmured.

He shook his head. "Don't be. I'm sorry. I should've…" he trailed off.

She smiled, sitting up on the couch. "Eric…he's leaving. I mean, he's not gonna try and bother us anymore."

A breath he didn't know he'd been holding released, unbelievable relief washing over him. "Oh," he managed, feeling heady and light.

"Eric," she said softly. "Come up here and talk to me."

He looked up at her, moving up from his position on the floor to join her on the couch. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "It's…it's gonna be okay now, I think." He nodded, sliding his arm around her shoulders quietly. She grabbed at his shirt, looking up at him. "I love you, Eric."

Some other tension in his head broke. "I love you too."

She giggled nervously. "Let's get married, okay?" Her voice was small and hopeful, and he had an overwhelming urge to hug her.

He nodded, slowly allowing himself to smile. "Okay," he finally said. "That sounds great."

And it was.

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Epilogue to come, hopefully.


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